


Prelude to Escape

by 131DI



Category: Rayman (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/131DI/pseuds/131DI
Summary: He wouldn’t call himself fearless. In reality, he was just as terrified as the rest of them. His deep rooted desire to right the wrongs that had befallen the world were what drove him, not any supernatural lack of fear. Fear kept him alive so far, but it was very draining.





	Prelude to Escape

Rain fell regularly in the Glade, but never had it felt so ominous and oppressive. Even the fairy lights, normally out to enjoy the overcast weather, hid away, terrified by the hovering gloom above. Their absence made the Glade dark, with little moonlight or even starlight to aid the eyes of those traveling through the neglected corner of the wood. They managed, mindful of low hanging branches and raised roots, as well as sudden dips into the creek. Being more waterlogged than they already were sounded like a bad idea, especially if they got caught by any of the menacing automatons they currently sought on their mission. Light was precious, but illuminating their position was unwise. The most they could safely muster was an impromptu firefly lantern, held carefully by one of their party.

“Do you see it?” said one of their voices.

“No, not yet. The mist is very thick.”

“Shh,” came the gentle chiding of their leader. “Use the signals I showed you.”

They were hardly a band of fighters. Most of them were simple folk, used to the everyday calm of the Glade rather than rebelling against terrorists from beyond the stars. ‘Conflict’ usually meant something more along the lines of a property dispute, or bad crops being sold. Not an invading force of alien robots bent on using them for cheap labor. Harvesting their own resources for the horrible machines was exhausting the once-peaceful folk to the brink of death-- and in some cases, beyond.

Razorbeard. That was the name floating around on the village word. He was the one responsible for this whole mess. They wouldn’t have known if not for his need to declare that all he could steal was rightfully his. It quickly became a taboo word not before long, but a vocal few insisted on not letting his name feel like a curse, and not to let it control the people.

Ly the fairy, ever watchful from her sanctuary, and the fearless leader that guided them now through the darkened Glade-- Rayman.

He wouldn’t call himself fearless, though that quality stuck in the public’s perception of him. In reality, he was just as terrified as the rest of them. His deep rooted desire to right the wrongs that had befallen the world were what drove him, not any supernatural lack of fear. Fear kept him alive so far, but it was very draining. Helpful though the red lums were, they could only do so much before his body gave out, and he was at the mercy of the rest of the waking world.

The waking world… what a strange one it was. He had little recollection of whatever transpired before he washed up on that black sand beach, and if he were honest with himself, it didn’t particularly bother him. He was greeted with suspicion and doubt at first, frightening the locals with his strange appearance and unusual magical ability, but soon he convinced many of them of his positive intentions. One of the primary reasons he gained their favor so quickly was in thanks to the word of Ly. Sharp and observant, she pegged him for a good man among the crowd, and that was that. It meant the world to him.

He only wished she were here now.

A sudden snap halted his movements, and he held up a hand to slow his companions. Not far from their position was a pirate patrol. A cloud of hazy, noxious fumes seemed to follow them wherever they went, and the smell always managed to burn his sensitive nose. Rayman crinkled his snout in disgust, but said nothing. Eyes glued to the patrol, he took a step forward, watching for fallen underbrush. He was quite stealthy on his own, but he had a party to keep safe. Over his shoulder, he signaled for the lantern bearer to extinguish the light, and she complied, letting the fireflies go one by one. Their tiny lights winked in and out as they passed by, disappeared as the bugs flew into the inky black night.

Taking a moment to assess the threat, Rayman quietly jumped to a low, sturdy branch. Basic swords and blasters were all they carried, and really, they were not much of a threat. Dangerous, yes, but nothing he couldn’t handle. It was easy to follow them, what with the scraping and clanking all their metal parts did. The Glade was comprised of mostly wood and rock, but it echoed poorly. Thanks to the dense foliage, noises were muffled, but he still had to pay attention to his chosen path. If they reached the wood’s edge before he could bring them down, he would miss his golden opportunity, and their bigger goal would be that much more difficult to achieve.

He held his hands low for the others to see, signaled his plan, then leapt from his perch at the patrol. The heel of his shoe connected with solid plate iron, and with all his weight he pushed down, dragging the robot with him. Its chasses struck a sharp rocky protrusion near the stream, and the point tore through its metal center. As it fell, Rayman balled his fist and drew energy to it, then slugged the second advancing robot in the middle joints. He winced at the painful impact, but he’d live. Nothing a dab of red lum salve wouldn’t fix--

\-- but a sword to the side was a different story. He yelped, an unflattering noise like a dog having its tail trod upon, and ducked left, holding the injury with one hand. The pirate hissed steam at him menacingly, then rumbled a raspy, mechanical laugh.

“If it isn’t the prize catch!” it taunted. “Razorbeard would love to have your head hanging on his stateroom wall!”

The image was unpleasant. “No thanks, I’m not one for surrealist taxidermy,” Rayman replied casually, though he clenched his jaw on the last word.

Again the pirate swung at him, but this time its blade sunk into the gnarled bark of a great tree, accidentally anchoring the belligerent robot in place. Quickly, Rayman gave a sharp whistle with his thumb and forefinger, and, under cover of the dark foliage, the rest of his company slid away from the fight.

“Euch, bringing vermin with you?” said the pirate.

“Yeah, and those vermin are gonna make your day.”

Pulling a dulled knife from the side of his shoe, Rayman wasted no time in jamming it into the pirate’s neck joint just under the head casing. Groaning metal met his ears as he shoved it to the side with all the strength he could muster, followed by the garbled anguish of the machine’s vocal processor, before the casing popped off and tumbled to the ground.

It wouldn’t take long for the company to reach their target: the towering supply tube that stretched high above the trees and disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. Rayman leaned back in an attempt to see the top of it, but to no avail. If he had a neck, it would have twanged with discomfort. Instead, his side burned from the messy sword wound, which, much to his dismay, was deeper than he initially thought. A quick examination of the clean cut flesh told him he would have to trudge up the mountainside to the spring for sure. Red lum salve only worked so well.

Silence hung over the glade as he undid his red bandana and tied it firmly around his midsection, slowing, but not stopping, the bleeding. It was better than nothing. By now, however, he was sure the company had planted their precious cargo, which was a clever little device cooked up by his and Ly’s combined efforts - a magical explosive. Coated in a thick, oily goop from one of the trees in Ly’s clearing, it would stick to anything, and the pulsing amber charge inside would ignite and rupture, spreading more flammable, sticky slop throughout the piping system. They tested smaller versions of the device on the open rock surfaces of the mountains, and when they proved useful, and not dangerously volatile, Rayman took the final product along with him for this mission.

Just as he finished his thought, a deep, resonating BOOM rattled the trees and rippled the nearby water. Rayman smirked. Another sore spot for the pirates to deal with, another to slow them down. Minutes later, those who accompanied him returned to his location, and after a short fuss over his condition, the group departed for the forest. For now, the Glade was safe.

Safe-r, anyway.

-

At times, Rayman found himself wishing he had a different purpose. Getting sliced up by pirate robots was not on his list of favorite activities, especially when said slice started to ache and throb deeply, much more than it stung. His side felt hot, despite the application of red lum salve. He hoped nothing got in it during his confrontation, but he also knew better than to think the swords of those monsters were clean.

“One of these days I’m going to see you come back here in even more pieces than you already are!”

Ly’s bright, tinkling voice lifted Rayman’s gaze from the trodden leaves to the golden glimmer of the swirled tree branches. Among them was the similarly swirl-clad fairy herself, suspended above a pond so crystal clear, Rayman could see the bottom even from where he stood.

“Hopefully not,” he said, hauling his body to a smooth stone and taking a seat atop the flat face. “You’d have to put me back together from scratch.”

Ly smiled and chuckled, bowing her head in a greeting. Rayman respectfully did the same in return, lying back on the rock immediately afterward.

“Oh, dear,” said Ly, descending to the pond’s surface. Her feet touched the water, but did not break its surface tension. She approached the battered hero and kneeled to inspect the damage. “What got you this time?”

“A sword,” Rayman croaked. His fatigue was catching up with him. “It’s not gonna kill me, but it sure hurts.”

“You’re about as pale as a sheet, so it actually might. Let me see what I can do,” the fairy insisted. Rayman cast her an aside glance, but did not resist as she gingerly untied the bandana and set it aside, then grimaced at the condition of his jacket.

He tensed. “I’ll get that part later. I’m sure Uglette can fix it.”

Ly gave him a scrutinizing side-eye, but did not press further. Turning on her heel, she dipped a hand into the pond and scooped up some of the pure water, which sparkled in her palm as the morning light struck its wavering surface. It lifted from her hands and sat suspended in the air above them, and after retrieving some sap from one of the red trees in the clearing, she mixed the two together to form a pink paste. Various personal items, including a beaten old chest full of miscellaneous tools, sat around this place, which was Ly’s ‘home,’ in a sense. A fine bowl was plucked from the mess and used to carry the paste, which began to rapidly cool and set once Ly uttered a short spell. The new material began to sublimate in the warm air, and Rayman winced in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, it will only sting for a few minutes.”

Bedside manners were not Ly’s strongest point, kind as she was, although Rayman supposed he couldn’t blame her. She was a fairy, a powerful one, and while she cared immensely for the world and its people, she lacked his social butterfly skills. Not that she was completely inept, either, but she had room to grow. They shared a close bond, but he was only one person, and there were many more out in the glades for her to potentially befriend. She seemed altogether uninterested in the idea, though at times Rayman wondered if she were lying.

“Holy cow!” Rayman squawked. The medicine was biting cold and stuck to him with all the fast-setting quality of tree sap. Once more it stung, only now it felt like a hot poker was being jabbed into his ribs as it ate away at the infection. “I’ll feel that tomorrow…”

“So how did it go?” inquired Ly, taking his attention off of her atrocious but effective methods.

“Your sap bomb worked like a charm, since I know that’s what you’re really asking.” He winked at her.

“Oh, good!” Ly beamed. “I hoped so. I’ll make more of them right away. The more the better, and the more pirate structures we can crush.”

“That’s the spirit,” mumbled Rayman, shutting his eyes. He felt Ly’s warm hand on his forehead, then a gentle stroke over his hair. A smile crept its way onto his lips despite himself, and a blush in his cheeks. Fairies were too charming for their own good.

“Rest, my friend,” Ly said soothingly, patting his chest with her hand. “I’ll wake you when you’re needed.”

-

Night welcomed him with a cool waking embrace, crisp and clean this high in the mountain woods. The moons were bright and full, unobscured by clouds or rain, watching quietly over the world below.

“Good evening,” said Ly. Her eyes shone like eerie emeralds out from the leaves, blown out and reflecting the dim light around her. She looked very much like a cat. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Stiff.”

“That’ll wear off.”

“Boy, I hope so,” said Rayman.

“You’ve had worse. You’ll feel better in a day or so, provided you actually get some rest.”

Ly had a good memory, so he trusted her. One too many taps to the head made a few memories a little fuzzy. Upon sitting upright, he noticed that he had been moved from the flat, warm rock, to a cozy nest of leaves on the ground. Soft earth was a much better cushion than granite.

“I thought you would appreciate a better sleeping spot,” said Ly.

“Thanks. Probably would’ve gotten some awful crick in my back.” Rayman arched his body and twisted it left and right, wrenching a few popping noises from his joints. Ly narrowed her eyes; she never liked the unsettling noise.

“You know I hate that,” she hissed.

“Yeah,” said Rayman, not even bothering to hide his playful smirk.

“You should probably get going, they’ll be expecting you at the lake.”

He sighed and slumped forward. “Ly, I’m so tired.”

Suddenly she was on the ground next to him, crouched and pensive. She reached out and tucked her hand under his chin. Her feather-soft touch made his skin prickle. “I know you are.”

Rayman wanted to stay in the pond clearing. Despite his treatment, his whole body ached, and he wanting nothing more than to lie back and sleep, and occasionally pop ripe berries into his mouth. At the thought of food, he became very aware of the hunger pangs in his stomach.

“How long since you last ate?” asked Ly, dropping her hand from his chin to his middle.

“Yester.. er, the day before yesterday,” said Rayman. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose!” he added once he saw Ly’s disapproving look.

Without a word, she jumped to a low branch on one of the trees, plucked a fruit from it, and handed the golden-skinned pear to him.

“For the road,” she said. “You’re burning moonlight, and I have sap charges to make. Scoot.”

She gave Rayman a gentle but firm push up off the ground, then returned to her battered chest.

It was a long trek, but at least he had something to tide him over until he reached the lake. It was rare that Ly shared the special fruit of her beloved trees, so to be given even one was a privilege. Biting into it, he discovered why she kept such a tight count of them. They were full to bursting with juicy, tart sweetness that seemed to perk him right up, surging with crackling energy like a shot of pure caffeine. He turned to thank Ly for her generous gift, but saw that she had vanished completely from sight.

He took a deep, resigned breath, then started down the mountain path.

-

Calling the Glutes’ abode a “house” was being generous; it was more like an open-air shack. It sat adjacent to the lake, built into the side of some trees and half covered by reeds. House or not, though, it was still a home. Just outside the odd shack was Uglette, Globox’s busy bee of a wife. She stood near the fire pit Rayman helped them dig, a massive cast iron pot settled over the top of it. When she caught sight of him, she gasped and took a step forward.

“Oh my, Rayman, you look terrible!”

Uglette’s concern was appreciated, but she lacked tact. Rayman held up a hand to stay her worry as she began to fuss over his ragged appearance.

“I’m fine, really. Ly patched me up. My jacket’s seen better days, though.” He tugged at the hole in his clothing. “Think you can fix it?”

“I should be able to,” said Uglette. “I’ll have to find my sewing kit inside. I don’t use it much these days, you know!”

Seeing as the majority of their family decided to forego clothing entirely, her statement wasn’t surprising.

“There should be a spare set of your things in the closet, you left them here last time you paid a visit.”

Though he couldn’t recall doing so, he was grateful they were there at all. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“I’d take the opportunity to get rid of all that muck while you’re here,” Uglette continued. “You smell like a dirty beach!”

Rayman blinked, then looked down at himself. He hadn’t considered that, sensitive nose notwithstanding. When one was around odd smells for long enough, one simply stopped noticing. A quick assessment sniff told him that Uglette was indeed right, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oof,” he said. “Guess all that rain, salt water, and blood doesn’t make a good cologne.”

“Just leave your shirt on the rack by the door. I’ll take care of it,” Uglette said with an air of finality. “Soup will be on soon, whenever Globox comes home. He’s been out all day.”

After procuring a towel from the same closet as his spare clothing, Rayman ducked behind a corner indoors to shed the tattered fabric. He made a face upon examining the stains left behind from yesterday’s confrontation. Maybe Ly was right, and he would come back in more than six pieces one day. He shuddered and threw that line of thought out the window, heading out the shack’s back door to the shore. Lakewater at night was just as frigid as he expected, but it would have to do the job. He’d get used to it quickly enough, and he’d rather be cold and uncomfortable for a little while than stay looking like a mess for the rest of the night.

His side tingled when he ran his hand over it, the flesh very tender and pink. Simply touching it made the whole area feel sore. The rest of him cleaned up easily, the grime coming off with minimal effort. Smelling vaguely of lake algae was leagues above smelling like a pier at low tide, he thought. Sea salt that had crusted on his skin fell away, leaving the freshly exposed areas to itch. Rayman stuck his tongue out in distaste. As much as he liked the ocean, he did not care for the hangers-on that stuck around afterwards. That, and the less time exposed to those awful clinging seaweeds, the better. Lake weeds kept to themselves. Fish, on the other hand, would lazily investigate regardless of the body of water. They had a tendency to bite, but Rayman didn’t mind- not when he could catch them and throw them in a skillet. Crispy fried fish made for a tasty snack, especially their tails and bones.

A quick dunk into the water wet his hair, and he scrubbed it vigorously. Normally fluffy and with a healthy sheen, the stress and neglect caused it to mat somewhat, squared off in odd segments. He managed to comb his fingers through it after a few tries, and cut through the built up oil. He was not interested in growing dreadlocks any time soon.

Noises began to drift his way, pulling his attention from the task at hand to beyond the hill crest. Several higher-pitched peeps clamored away, with one central deep voice. The moment it registered with him, Rayman relaxed. Globox and a handful of his children were coming home. Late night fishing, perhaps. His friend’s return brought a sense of ease, and Rayman was content to linger in the lake for a while longer, happy to give his hair the attention it needed. A few more rounds of rinsing later, some of its characteristic fluff had returned, though it was far from what he would have liked, and he pulled himself from the water. The towel he picked from the closet was, thankfully, big enough to cover him from head to sole, and was quite warm.

Before long, he heard a wail from inside the shack, and, startled, he quickly darted inside, grabbed the clean jacket, and threw it on before sliding through the open door frame.

“What happened? Is everyone...” He trailed off when he discovered that it was merely one of the youngest tadpoles crying, apparently upset that her fishing pole - really just a stick and some wire - was broken. Rayman laughed at his overly protective reaction, looking away with a shred of embarrassment. The child’s crying cleared up the moment she saw him, and she darted at him for a hug.

“Whoa, hey! Hey there,” he said gently, patting her head. She clung to him like a staticky sock. “Did you guys catch anything?”

“Not much,” burbled Globox. “Only a few walleyes. The commotion from the pirates is scaring away the good catch!”

“Oh,” said Rayman, crestfallen. “Guess I should’ve expected that.”

“Uglette should have something for us, though! She had her cookpot out front. It smells good.” Globox’s huge smile dominated his face.

It did smell good. Whatever food it was, Rayman wanted a lot of it.

“Uglette! Oh dear Uglette,” Globox singsonged. “Where are you?”

“Maybe the attic? She said she was gonna fix my other jacket.”

“Huh?” Globox tilted his head.

“It got torn up on the mission.”

He put a hand to his mouth, concerned.

“I’ll tell you the details later, so they don’t have to hear,” said Rayman, pointing to the young frogs.

“Are you okay?” Globox asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just sore. So if you could uh,” he jostled the tadpole in his hands. “She’s a little heavy for me right now. Gotta take it easy.”

Globox took the fussy tadpole and nodded, understanding, then left to collect his wife. Rayman sunk down onto a tree stump chair and watched as the tadpoles waddled after their father. They were good kids.

“Oh, you’re back!” came Uglette’s muffled voice some time later. The frogs returned to the main open room, and the busy woman was quick to retrieve her heavy pot from the fire. The lid came off, and a heavenly smell filled the air.

“What is that?” asked Rayman.

“Potato, reed, cheese, and grub stew!” Uglette said proudly. “Help yourself! Heroes first, dear,” she added as Globox made a move for the goopy stew.

It was piping hot, thick, and filled to the brim with chunks of delicious tree grubs. They tasted remarkably similar to shrimp, Rayman found. They had similar textures, too. He had not tried them before being introduced by the Glutes, but now he could hardly get enough. He poured a hefty amount into the bowl Uglette offered, and dove in as soon as he could get a spoon in his hand.

“This is delicious!” he gushed after the first few bites. “Everything is so tender.”

“It’s been on the fire all day,” explained Uglette. “I didn’t know when everyone would get here, so I figured I’d leave it! My cooking intuition was right.”

“Was it ever!”

Globox and Uglette shared a look of worry, unseen by Rayman as he enjoyed his food. The rosy-colored frog looked down at her hands, sighed, then cast a glance to the distracted hero.

“What happened with the supply line?” she asked.

Since meeting their family, it didn’t take long to discern that Uglette had more of the wit between the pair. Globox wasn’t exactly stupid, but he was a fairly basic, humble man. Uglette, on the other hand, was quite sharp, but found herself so busy most of the time that it simply wasn’t seen.

“It’s gone,” said Rayman. “Everyone got out all right. We saw a couple pirates--”

Some of the children in the doorway gasped.

“--but I took care of them. Ly’s sap charge was brilliant!”

Uglette smiled knowingly at his enthusiastic mention of the aloof fairy, but returned to cautious concern a moment later.

“We were very worried about you,” she said, fighting a frown. “It’s good to see you back.”

Rayman hesitated, then stared at the floor. A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Causing distress in his friends was unavoidable during all of this, but it still left him with an uncomfortable gloom in his heart.

“Sorry,” he decided to say, giving the sweet frog a tired, apologetic grin. “But the sooner this is over, the less you have to worry about! Can’t quit now, can I?”

“I only wish we could give you some more help.”

Rayman adamantly shook his head. “You do plenty for me already,” he said. “I’d rather have a cozy place to come back to, filled with good food and friendly faces, than have any of you out there in that dangerous mess with me.”

One of the tadpoles approached him then, taking hold of his shirt and gently pulling on it to get his attention.

“We helped catch some fish for you,” she said. “Does that help?”

There was a short moment of silence.

“Of course it does,” Rayman said, affectionately patting the tadpole’s head. “We’ll cook them up tomorrow! You and me, okay?”

The other tadpoles crowded around, eager to get in on the offer.

“We’ll go get some more, too! How about that? Maybe we can get lucky at the east river. I bet those nasty pirates haven’t gotten to that one yet, and all the good fish are just waiting for us!”

The tadpoles peeped excitedly at the idea, then scuttled away to get their share of the stew.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Uglette, smiling.

“It’s a lot better than anything else I have to do,” said Rayman truthfully. “I wouldn’t mind taking a few hours to kick back and pretend that life’s back to normal for a while.”

He finished off the last of his stew, but before he could try to make himself useful, Uglette snatched his empty bowl and spoon from him.

“If you’re going to do that for us, go and get some more rest. Goodness knows you need it!”

“But-”

“Shoo.”

Globox stifled a laugh, knowing all too well about Uglette’s insistence. Rayman shrugged and did as she instructed, finding a comfortable place under one of the trees to settle down, and, mercifully, fall asleep.

-

“It’s just a little farther, right Rayman?”

“Yeah, right up this hill!”

Six of Globox’s tadpoles followed Rayman out that morning, curious and eager to spend some time with their father’s best friend. One held his hand tightly, waddling as fast as he could to keep up with Rayman’s longer strides. The lot of them were taxing to keep an eye on, but their innocent glee was a refreshing break from the misery and somber discussions he’d been a part of over the last few weeks.

One darted forward and selected their fishing spot, settling in at the water’s edge and throwing her lure out onto the river’s stilled offshoot. Her siblings followed her lead shortly after, leaving Rayman to observe the riverbank carefully. As far as he could tell, there had been minimal to no activity from… anything nearby in some time. Not a single footprint, nary a bent blade of grass. Something about it didn’t sit well with him, but he was prepared to chalk it up to his constant stress. It was wearing at his nerves and making him even a little bit paranoid, not that anyone could blame him. Still, he kept a watchful eye on the bank behind them as he sat down with the tadpoles, readying his own fishing rod.

“See anything yet?” he asked one of the tadpoles, and was promptly shushed by the others.

“You’ll scare the fish!” one whispered loudly.

“Oh! Sorry,” he apologized, trying not to laugh.

Most of the morning went by uneventfully, with little to show for their patience. Their fish bucket remained mostly empty save for a few small fry stragglers they’d scooped up with a net. Rayman couldn’t complain, happy to be out in the warm sunlight and able to enjoy the calm, and thoughts of the crunchy dried fish drifted through his mind as he shut his eyes.

Not long into his daydreaming, however, an odd sensation manifested in his chest, almost like someone had hooked him with one of their fishing lines and was pulling as hard as they could. It wasn’t painful, but it did startle him awake. His worried expression must have alerted the tadpoles, as they clustered around him protectively.

“Are you okay?” one asked.

“You look really tired! Didn’t you sleep?”

“Yeah, I did,” said Rayman, putting a hand to his chest. He had to be hallucinating or going mad, as the pulling sensation seemed to have left him feeling inexplicably weak. “But I feel… weird.”

“Should we go get daddy?” a third tadpole asked.

“No, I think I’ll be all right--”

A great low rumble interrupted him, followed by a sudden tremor in the ground. Rayman got to his feet, ready to spring into action, but gravity had a vice grip on him, and he dangerously swayed on the spot.

“Rayman!” chirped one of the tadpoles.

“I’m fine, I-”

“No, look! Pirates!”

She was right. Above them, a small skiff had come in for a landing. An icy stone formed in his gut. They were out in the open in broad daylight, miles from Globox’s home with Rayman as their only means of protection. He steeled himself, then turned to the tadpoles.

“Do you know how to get back to the lake from here?” he asked, kneeling down.

“Yes, why?”

“I need you to swim away from here as fast you can! Go down the river, it empties into the far side of the lake. Go back to your daddy, and tell him I’ll be coming soon after.”

“But we want to help you!”

“That will help me!” Rayman heard a distant clanking noise, and, panicked, he shot a glance over his shoulder. “But you have to listen to me right now, okay?”

“But we-”

“I said go! Now!”

Before he could give them the physical push they needed, he heard the characteristic ping of a charging robot blaster, and froze in place.

“No one move a fleshy muscle,” said the approaching robo-pirate. It held its blaster at full arm’s length, pointed directly at Rayman. “My, my, we do have a catch here! Six little would-be slaves, and the thorn in our Admiral’s side all at once!”

Rayman looked at the terrified faces of the tadpoles before squeezing his eyes shut. Slaves.

“Turn around, real slow,” the pirate continued. “Go on!”

He did as commanded, though he wore a look of bitter hatred. 

“Get the little ones first,” the pirate instructed its comrades, who produced cuffs and chains from their storage hatches.

“Wait!” Rayman blurted, taking a step forward. A shot hit the ground next to his foot.

“I said not to move! Can’t you understand that?” the pirate snapped.

“Don’t take them,” he pleaded.

“What.”

“I said, ‘don’t take the tadpoles.’” Rayman snapped right back. Before he could stop himself, he added, “Now who’s the one who can’t understand?”

“Watch your mouth, weirdo. Why shouldn’t we take them?”

“They- they’re just children! What on earth would you have them do? They can barely lift a fishing pole.”

“Eh, we’d find something.”

A taller, more menacing robot stepped into view, arms behind its back. It stared Rayman down, beady electric eyes boring into his.

“Admiral Razorbeard will be ecstatic,” the newcomer said. “We wouldn’t even need to take the little whelps.”

The smaller pirate seemed surprised. “What? They’re free for the taking!”

“True, true… or we could just have ourselves a frog leg brunch instead.”

Rayman’s look of horror was so visceral that he couldn’t hope to hide it, and the pirates laughed cruelly.

“No, no, we wouldn’t do that. It’d be a waste!”

Angrily balling his fist, Rayman tried to gather energy, but much to his confusion, found that he could not. He tried again, even shaking his hand out a few times as though it were a misbehaving broken appliance. When his subsequent attempts produced nothing, he helplessly stared at the robots.

“Can’t make your little energy balls now, can you?”

They had done something big this time. Something very bad.

“That Heart of the World didn’t put up much of a defense, did it?”

No.

“What did you do?” Rayman breathed, much more panicked now than he ever had been. They’d been to the Heart of the World? He wondered if the tremor they felt had anything to do with their meddling, and now his powers were gone… just what had they done?

“That thing broke like a glass marble! All those pretty yellow lums scattered all over the place.” The larger pirate stroked a nonexistent beard. “I’d say good luck putting it back together, but I guess you wouldn’t be the best at keeping things in one piece, would you?”

He wanted to lunge at them, but knew better. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides and exhaled, well beyond aggravated.

“Fine, then just take me. Let the kids go. Your admiral wants the one who’s been messing up his plans.”

“Willing surrender?” said the smaller pirate. “Aw, I wanted him to put up a fight.”

“And do what, punch us to death?” scoffed the larger one again. “He’d break his fist before he did us any damage, numbskull.”

Without warning, they slapped a set of strange cuffs around his middle, which gave him an almighty shock. Robbed of breath, he dropped to the ground, gaping like a fish to get back his lost air. He was plucked from the dirt shortly after, and without warning, struck so forcefully on his injured side that everything immediately went red, then wavered into inky blackness.

-

_Rayman?_

...

_Rayman, if you’re out there, you must hear me._

A voice resonated inside his head, soft and echoing. He wasn’t fully conscious, but he was vaguely aware of being dragged across a worn wooden floor. Cold metal hands grasped his as they hauled him down the length of what appeared to be a hallway towards uncertainty.

_Rayman, you must try to reach back through to me!_

Possible concussion or not, Rayman would recognize that airy voice anywhere.

_Ly?_ he tried, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound.

It remained silent for some time, until finally-

_Oh, thank goodness. I feared the worst when I felt the surge from the Heart._

_You felt that, too?_ he asked her voice, stunned. 

_Yes! I’m sure everyone in the Glade felt it, and I can’t access any of my magic. I would guess that you can’t, either._

_No,_ he thought, crushed. If Ly no longer had any of her magical powers as well, then there was very little hope.

_Don’t give up yet. I have a plan._

That was the last he heard of her voice, as the pirates holding him roughly shook him to his senses, then dumped him on the floor of a room. He barely had time to register the rest of his new surroundings before a sharp set of robot claws grabbed his chin and yanked his face up to eye level with--

“Razorbeard?” he said, hoarse.

“That’s Admiral Razorbeard, you annoying monkey wrench. But where are my manners?” Razorbeard gestured to the room in which they stood. “Welcome to the Buccaneer.”

His escorts chuckled darkly behind him.

“Such a huge pain in the neck, you are. Now you’ll be my most obedient slave.”

Weak though he was, Rayman managed a fierce, defiant stare at the robot. “You wish.”

Razorbeard scowled, then shoved him away. “Take him to the cells like everyone else. Let them see just who we’ve caught in our net.”

Again he was being dragged away against his will, and he wondered just how this ship managed to seem bigger on the inside…

“No rations for our limbless wonder,” added the admiral, flippantly waving a hand over his shoulder.

Throughout their conversation, Rayman was only vaguely aware of a faint buzzing in the back of his mind. As the voices grew quiet, the buzzing became louder, and again he heard Ly’s echoing voice.

_...don’t lose hope, my dear friend. This isn’t the end._

-

A few days later, he was nearly ready to believe it was. Skies grew dark over the Glade, water ran thick and grimy, and the very life of the world seemed to droop as the days marched on. Without the Heart, the pulse and lifeblood of their world, it suffered slowly like a wounded beast in the forest.

Rayman felt very much the same. The shame that burned through him when he first saw the faces of the other captives was almost enough to send him into a pit of despair. He was their hero, and here he was: left alone in a big, empty cell at the end of a long, desolate hallway, a spectacle for them all, prisoners and pirates alike. It was humiliating, and it was exactly what Razorbeard wanted.

He believed Ly had a plan. If anyone did, she would. He just had to wait for whatever ace she had up her sleeve.

Anguished cries of his fellow captives made him turn over on the floor to peer out between the bars of his cell. Pirates were shoving more helpless creatures into cages, then strutting away like proud peacocks.

_Ly, see if you can’t put a rush on that plan of yours,_ Rayman snarked at the void.

_I’ll do my best._

He jerked up, surprised he heard anything at all.

_Ly?_ he tried again.

Silence.

_I’ll see you soon,_ he added, lying back down.

_Sooner than you think._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this just before Rayman's 20th anniversary. I've always loved Rayman 2 and its dark story elements, so I got inspired to write a little bit about what might've happened before the game's opening. Seeing Rayman in Razorbeard's clutches and in prison definitely invited a bit of curiosity. This fic is unedited from my original blog post in 2015


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